


sunburnt

by momentofzen



Category: Blur (Band)
Genre: M/M, Woa, bored at 2 am, finally wrote something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 23:26:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momentofzen/pseuds/momentofzen
Summary: Damon and Graham travel to Portugal. Two lovebirds in love that refuse to acknowledge they are in love. Takes place in 1995.





	sunburnt

**Author's Note:**

> Ya girl is back at it again with the Gramon fanfictions. I've been feeling pretty lonely so I had to write something sweet. This prolly sucks but I liked it. I bet Portugal is pretty.

**_1995_**.

"I think you're burning."  
A beautiful sunday morning revealed itself in front of them. 9:32 AM, to be exactly, but the portuguese beach of Cascais was already crowded with tanned, beautiful people; and two pale englishmen laying on colorful towels, a bit embarrassed; looking like ghosts in speedos. The contrast was astonishing. It was obvious they were foreigners.

The man _(hairy and less pale but not really, for future references)_ which said comment was directed at was barely listening; his ears were filled with the beautiful sound of the waves coming and going, he was too busy admiring the beautifully tanned people, rejoicing such beautiful day in a language he did not comprehend.  
" _Huh_?" He said, aloof; then he turned his eyes to the palest of the two, who was looking at the sea with a soft smile.

"You're _burning_." Graham repeated, as if it was the most obvious thing. Had the other remembered he had forgotten to put on sunscreen; he would understand what the brown-haired man was saying.

"No, I'm not...--" There Damon went with the defensive behaviour; the other was kind of amused. Without saying a word, he pressed his palm to a hairy stomach and when he pulled his hand away, the white handprint on a reddening surface was clear as th[at] day was bright.

"Ta-da." Said Graham, turning his eyes to the sea once more, speaking amusedly. "I told you to put sunscreen on. You didn't. _And now you're the equivalent of a shrimp._ "

Damon looked down at his stomach -- it was clear that he was getting sunburnt. He clicked his tongue. _Was he so white to the point of getting sunburnt at 9:46 in the morning? Had the portuguese sun already won the battle?_

"It's the jet lag. I completely forgot---..."

"... to put sunscreen on. Was it the jet lag? I thought it was because you're stubborn. Portugal is not that far."

The blonde had an obvious look of aggravation plastered onto his features; Graham rejoiced.

"And now what?"

Laughter could be heard. The brunette was laughing for the first time in ages. It almost made going to Portugal in a rush and taking a 4 am flight worth it to Damon.

"And now every portuguese person out there will know you're a silly foreigner and will try to sell you water bottles twice the price they originally cost. _Stupid limey."_

Damon could not hold back his laughter. Portugal was great so far.

[...]

Now it was 8:12 PM and sun had barely set. There was a fresh breeze and the warm air smelled of flowers, sea and happiness as they walked along those thin streets in Lisbon _[Lisboa, if you want to sound fancy.]_  
Unfortunately, some people recognized them. Fortunately, they did not bother them way too much and the pair were soon able to carry on with their original plans.

"If only England was like this..." Graham said softly to himself as he walked past a bar that was definitely different than his conception of bars and how they should be. First of all, it was not dark --- it was open [perhaps too open] and there were tables on the street. He was pleasantly surprised.

"... _then it wouldn't be England._ " Damon answered, looking up at the beautiful architecture reminiscent of the 19th century. Those kind of buildings, back in England, would've depressed Damon. But not here. Not in Lisbon, when he could pretend to be someone else, be lazy under the sun, share a hotel bed and kiss under the moonlight.

Eventually, they decided to enter one of those bars that Graham had been so fascinated for --- looking painfully like clueless tourists. One of them, sunburnt and a bit ashamed of his once white, now reddened complexion-- flushed cheeks and blonde hair. The other, looking around with an expression of pure joy as if he had never seen an azulejo or bandolins before.

Sat at a table --- a friendly woman, the owner, perhaps? smiled at them and asked " _que vai ser para os dois?"_ and upon their faces of complete confusion --- realized they were tourists. She called forth a man, younger than her, _her son?_ and pretty soon, he was speaking a broken english with a very thick accent. But it was english, and that was good enough. They ordered beers, and " _bolinhos de bacalhau_ ", and after some mild confusion, they were told it were small deep fried balls of pastry with a codfish filling within; a beloved national dish. They were excited.

In the back, two men played mandolins and a woman sung something that was incomprehensible for them but it sounded very pretty. Damon, particularly, was very intrigued by the way she sung.

"I had never seen someone sing like this...--"

" _I_ _told you Portugal wouldn't be bad_."

"You certainly did. Cheers." The blonde said as their beers and food arrived --- proposing a toast.

"Cheers." Their clinked their glasses and shared a meaningful smile, before drinking.

[. . .]

They were walking back to their hotel, at 1:34 AM. Slurring a bit their words with cheeky grins and rushed little kisses, confusing their legs and if one of them were to almost slip and fall, the other would laugh.

It was a miracle how they got past the hotel staff and were able to unlock the hotel door with so much giggling. The hotel room was nice and large. _["What the fuck is the point of having money if you can't buy nice things?" Damon had said a certain day. Graham couldn't help but agree.]_

Graham also agreed that Damon was beautiful and silly when drunk. Extraordinarily _beautiful_. With flushed cheeks and half opened eyes, he found himself admiring his lover from afar as he attempted to unbutton his white cotton shirt and failed; giggling.

"Let _me_..--" The brown-haired man stood up and upon seeing Damon struggle so much, decided to help him. Unfortunately, he was clumsy as well and both fell on the large bed, laughing.

Pretty soon, they were kissing again. It just seemed to come to them so naturally; it was no mistake, no sin. They were best friends but above being best friends, they were lovers. In love.

The full moon illuminated the bedroom through the curtain and if they weren't so drunk, they would surely end up having sex.

"I'm gonna..." Damon mouthed the word _'f u c k'_ after pulling away from the kiss and after both of them having taken off their clothes. To Graham's amusement, Damon was slurring his words. "... you so hard."

"Oh _yeah_?" Graham laughed drunkenly. "But..."

He didn't even get to finish the sentence. Damon was already snoring on his chest; mouth open like a child. Graham held back a laugh by biting down onto his lower lip and with slow, gentle fingers brushed some of his blonde hair away from his forehead. He was all sunburnt.

At least Damon wasn't strung out in his bathroom right now. He was there. With him.

Graham fell asleep with a smile on his lips and a small, drunken prayer thanking everything and everyone in the Universe.

[. . .]

The next morning, both of them woke up incredibly sore and with screaming headaches. A bitter taste in their mouth; their legs tangled together beneath white sheets--- Graham snored loudly. So loudly it woke Damon up.

The blonde woke up slowly, opening his eyes and in his head, it felt like two hundred symphonies were playing at the same time and the sun that yesterday he would've found beautiful was now incredibly annoying and seeping through the beige curtain. Outside, the sea. He grumbled and looked at the clock by the nightstand, _8:21 AM_. So early.

He turned to the opposite side and saw a pale back, broad shoulders with some beauty marks scattered all over. A mess of dark hair. Loud snoring.

He could not help but to smile; almost unwillingly. Before remembering he was hungover and probably smelled heavily of alcohol and perfume.

Oh yeah, _sunburnt_ too. He was all sore.

Damon slowly rose up and headed towards the bathroom --- hissing as he walked, the friction of his sunburnt thighs being almost unbearable.

The portuguese sun had no mercy, after all.

[. . .]

2:21 PM and they were sat at at chairs by the hotel pool, comfortable, large umbrellas above them to protect them from the sun. Damon was visibly aggravated; this must've been the fifth time he had gotten a sunburn in his life and he was not taking it well. Graham had small fits of laughter whenever Damon went to take his drink in his hands and hissed and cursed because guess what? Even his palms were sunburnt.

"Oh my go---" Graham said, taking off his glasses to clean them using the fabric of his white button up shirt--- after having rejoiced the previous scene and the fact that he was right.

" _Do not_."

"I / _told_ / you to put on sunscreen---"

"Well, I didn't think I'd get a sunburn at bloody nine am!"

"Yeah." He agreed, putting on his glasses again. "You're genius, that's what you are."

Damon emitted a low laugh, whether it was sarcasm; Graham did not know. But he laughed too and focused his attention on some group of women with long dark hair, colorful bikinis sat by the opposite side of the pool.

"Portuguese women are pretty." Said Damon, while he sipped on his drink that tasted vaguely of orange and grapes.

"Sure are." Graham couldn't help but agree. Damon looked at him with eyebrows raised, a vague look of amusement evident on his face.

" _What_..."

"What, you'll just agree with me?"

"Yeah. Why _wouldn't_ I?"

"I thought---"

" _We're not in a relationship or something so pipe down---_ "

Damon had to hold back a laugh. He reached and gave the guitarist's thigh a reassuring squeeze.

"Got that right."

[. . .]  
  
9:12 PM.

Eventually, the two weeks they had to spend in Portugal were gone. They explored Lisbon as much as they could--- _[Graham had also gotten sunburnt, and Damon would not stop teasing him about it]_ bought souvenirs, ate good food and had good sex. _All the good things..._

"... must come to an end, I guess." Was what Damon had said to console himself as they packed their clothes. The next flight to England was at 4:30 AM, for some god forsaken reason.

"Yeah."

There was an unspoken agreement that when they went back to England, neither would talk about this. It'd be as if these two weeks in Portugal had never happened.

"D'ya wanna maybe hang around until the flight?" Graham asked. "We could go and have dinner--"

Damon slowly wrapped his arms around the other's shoulders.

"Sure. There's this cool place I saw on our way back to the hotel this afternoon _and_...--"

[. . .]

And there they were. Back to moody, cloudy and rainy England. They said goodbye at the airport and took different cabs home.

They were trying to hold onto the memory of these two weeks they had spent together as much as they could but it seemed like the memory was sand seeping through their fingers. Pretty soon, it'd all be gone.

[. . .]

Graham had debated whether to call his best friend for over two weeks now, and when he finally made a point to grab the phone, one particularly chilly thursday evening--- he heard a knock on the door.

" _Wh...-_ " At the door was Damon, holding a bag with little boxes inside.

"I found this great restaurant that specializes in Portuguese food and I had to come here to show you...---" The blonde handed the bag to Graham as if this totally hadn't been unexpected and walked inside his home; going straight to the kitchen to grab fork and knives. _"Ever since we returned I can not forget about the food for the life of me. I don't think it's as good as the one we had back there but..."_ Damon stood in the middle of the living room, holding the cutlery in his hands to a smiling Graham.

"What?"

"You came here without me having to ca-"

"Yeah, well." The blonde shrugged with a smile. "I _had_ to, I mean..."

" _I know_."

They sat at the table and began to eat. The food was shit. But at least they had each other's company.

Pretty soon, they were laughing at the own situations they went through back there, like the time Graham was bitten by a sea creature that remained unknown and they had to rush to the hospital and for their despair--- not a single soul spoke English.

"It was fun..." Said Graham, toying with a piece of broccoli on his plate.

"I know. I've been thinking we should go to Italy next---"

" _Huh_?"

" _Yes_ , Italy." Damon responded, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. "Or _maybe_ Spain---."

"Alright then." Tender brown eyes met with wide blue ones, a warm smile spreading on his otherwise emotionless face.

"Alright what?"

"Italy it is. But put on some sunscreen then, for the love of God---"

" _Pft_."

 

**Author's Note:**

> leave yr comments ♡


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